Mediocrity

Up, down. Sigh, up...

Out of bed, the smell of stale cigarettes, dirty socks and me. Bleary eyed I turn on the first song I see on my media player. Tentatively I start to wake up, eyes clear, windows awash with the weather outside. Towel, barefoot run down the corridor and the day begins...

Wet hair and a black cup of coffee, franticly trying to get body and mind to cooperate, messages are being sent, very little received and I am the victim of a broken telephone. Cigarette, sigh. New song, the habitual struggle. Blank stare, eyes moving over the screen, hand darting restlessly across the page, feint and margin directing the flow of ink.  Sweaty patches slowly advancing despite the cold outside. The droplets flying in, little spots of wetness on my desk, straining under the pressure of another underachiever wielding the weapons of six months of subtle indoctrination.

Racing thoughts on this gloomy afternoon. Cigarette, coffee and a yearning for time to pass. “Sitting, waiting, wishing hoping for the best, expecting the worst.” Another cliché heard as I sit sharing some nervous laughter with my house mates, huddled against the cold. The wear and tear of just another year embodied in my routine existence.

"I don’t wanna work in a building downtown / Parking their cars in the underground     Their voices when they scream, well they make no sound / I wanna see the cities rust / And the troublemakers riding in the back of the bus..."